


your heart fits like a key

by paperlions



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Flashbacks, M/M, POV Switches, Sort Of, Visions, slight Thomas/Teresa, tdc fixit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-03-11 09:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13521792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperlions/pseuds/paperlions
Summary: [ Set in the post movie-verse Death Cure ]With a snarl, Newt was on him, and they tumbled to the pavement. The strength with which the lean boy pinned him down was unfamiliar, but Thomas couldn’t bring himself to throw him off, not when every time he blinked, a vision appeared of a healthy, golden and laughing Newt looking fondly at him from the pebbly ship dock, giddy with excitement that they were headed for paradise. It was only months ago that Thomas had let himself believe that this boy, eye-crinkling smile and all, was worth every test and reckless plan just for the chance that they could survive.And there was still a chance, Thomas knew that, but as Newt cocked the pistol and lifted it to his own head...[ note: mostly centered around the films, though elements were taken from the books ]Check out the fmv and song that inspired this fic!: https://youtu.be/BP2VoBKz0Mc





	1. too much for my soul alone

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first ever work that I’ve published on ao3, and was prompted by post-emotional trauma due to seeing the Death Cure a couple days ago. I have to say, despite it being very, very different from the novels, I’m happy with the movies in themselves and loved the direction that they went in.  
> Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this fic, and I’ll try to publish frequent updates!

**Thomas**

An explosion shook the ground and became the beat in the background of Thomas’ heart. The other boy’s shoulders heaved up and down and his breath came in rasps.

“Newt...”

In an uncharacteristically quick movement, Newt whipped around, but the look in his eyes wasn’t _him_ , animalistic and angry.

Thomas took a step back, hands out in front of him. “Hey, it’s me, calm down-“

With a snarl, Newt was on him, and they tumbled to the pavement. The strength with which the lean boy pinned him down was unfamiliar, but Thomas couldn’t bring himself to throw him off, not when every time he blinked, a vision appeared of a healthy, golden and laughing Newt looking fondly at him from the pebbly ship dock, giddy with excitement that they were headed for paradise. It was only months ago that Thomas had let himself believe that this boy, eye-crinkling smile and all, was worth every test and reckless plan just for the chance that _they could survive_.

And there was still a chance, Thomas knew that, and as Newt cocked the pistol and lifted it to his own head, Thomas threw him off to the side and pinned his shoulders down with a yell. Newt strained against him and finally, somehow, kicked Thomas off of him, regaining his upper hand. Even in madness, Thomas could not betray his heart and strike the boy in front of him.

“Newt, stop! Please, the cure, my blood can still save you!”

His response was a deranged growl and a punch that Thomas should’ve dodged easily. Yet, once again, Newt had him on the ground and was pressing in closer with a knife- where did he get a knife? The sharp tip pressed into Thomas’ pec and he shouted in pain and rolled out under from Newt. _No_. He wasn’t Newt anymore; the Newt that he knew was in there, though, he could see him in his clenching fists and the frustration in his eyes that came and went.

They faced off, inching around in a circle, and Thomas figured that if he could distract his friend for just a while longer... He charged, but Thomas caught his wrists. Their faces were centimeters apart, and every bruised line was apparent on Newt’s skin; the veins pulsed around his eyes and black red blood dripped down his chin. In a moment of impossible clarity, his crazed expression lifted and a horrified gasp sputtered from Newt’s lips.

“Tommy,” he coughed, shaking. “Tommy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,”

“It’s okay,” Thomas lied. “It’s okay.”

And just like that, Newt was gone again and Thomas shoved him back as hard as he could, fueled by determination to save his friend, his much more than that, his everything to lose.

Thomas didn’t see the knife still in his hand.

If he had, he might’ve stabbed his own chest with it, perhaps. Anything but that sharp intake of breath and then _stop_. Newt’s eyes cleared, for the last time, and Thomas heard nothing even as his lips mouthed, “Tommy.” Newt fell, and Thomas went down with him, the entire world blurry, maybe from his tears, maybe because his own world just shattered. He must’ve been screaming, for his throat ached and air got caught on its way to his lungs. He pressed his ear to Newt’s chest, ignoring the blood staining his cheek, and felt the faint, so faint, _badump.. badump..._.

Brenda was there, a hand over her mouth and a blue vial in the other. Her eyes met with Thomas’ and something unspoken passed between them. _Too late._ Strong arms that could only belong to Minho were pulling Thomas away from Newt’s still form, too drained and broken to fight back despite every fiber of his being screaming at him to not let him go. It was the living nightmare of his flashbacks to clutching Chuck’s lifeless hand in his own, and the countless nights spent awake, wondering if a life could be traded for a life. Thomas wrenched himself from Minho’s hold and ran back to the glass paned skyscraper, only looking back to see Jorge place a hand on Brenda’s shoulder as she crouched next to Newt’s still body, gentle fingers closing his eyes. Minho shouted something across the road to Gally, who was hauling a black duffel and sprinting towards them. Thomas flinched and ran quicker.

_A cure. A cure._

With his trembling hand, he lifted his pistol, no, Newt’s pistol that Thomas had knocked away. He would tear down WCKD brick by brick if he had to, anything to save the rest of humanity, which wasn’t much now. In the back of his head, he knew that he was downright suicidal for going back, and yet. There was little left to lose. 


	2. wrestle me free

**Teresa**

The swish of the opening elevator doors snapped Teresa into focus, where the power had gone out in the ground level of the headquarters. She made her way behind the pillars, unseen, until the chancellor’s silhouette came into view. Teresa crouched down and waited, as she had been told to do. In the corner of her eye, just out the window, she spotted Thomas running full speed towards the building, and her hopes lifted. He’d heard her, and the Death Cure was finally in reach.

  
A part of Teresa had almost hoped that he wouldn’t come, that he’d run far away from the Last City and leave her and WICKED to die. But Thomas wouldn’t, she was certain, for the sake of those lost to the Flare, and especially for those he couldn’t afford to lose later. Thomas and she were different in that his world was only as big as those he let into his heart, and Teresa’s rose and fell with the global population numbers. She’d known that selflessness was his greatest flaw, years and years ago, when the little green check mark that labeled someone as Immune didn’t appear next to Subject A5’s name, and she remembers telling Thomas to not get too attached to the guinea pig, which he ultimately ignored, adamant on the fact that there would be a cure soon enough to save his friend.

  
She knew today, too, when she heard the wheeze of Newt’s coughs over the staircase railing, and saw the anguish in Thomas’s eyes, as if he’d rather be the one dying in his place. Teresa had a strange sense that Newt was the only thing anchoring Thomas from giving up on his plans to take down WICKED. She had wondered then why they would risk so much just to rescue Minho, but then again, Thomas’ whole motto was “all or nothing”, and situations were leaning heavily towards the “nothing” side. Teresa thought that Thomas hadn’t changed one bit.

  
She started to rise from her position on the ground, but a hand smacked around her mouth and her gasp was snuffed.  
“You’ll stay quiet, Teresa,” Janson murmured and Teresa felt the cold metal of a gun press into her temple. “You understand?”  
She nodded, aware that all would be lost if a bullet went through her head. They watched in silence from behind a pillar as Thomas shakily approached and pointed a handgun at Ava, who simply turned towards him calmly.

  
“Is it true?” Thomas’ voice cracked, and Teresa squeezed her eyes shut, afraid that if she looked at him she’d be tempted to run and escape with him. “Could I have saved him?”

  
_Could he have saved him?_

  
Teresa’s heart dropped to her feet. It couldn’t be. Newt should’ve had time, hours at best, he couldn’t be dead. Unless... no. Teresa knew him well enough that he would end his own life before the mania overtook him. She gets it then, why they came back for Minho; Newt couldn’t leave Thomas without one last person to keep him sane. Emotion built up in her throat, but suddenly Janson let her go. She turned, bewildered, and the icy gaze he fixed upon her told her to stay put. He stepped into the hall, and...

  
_Bang._

  
Just like that, Chancellor Paige was dead and Thomas fell to the ground. Teresa clenched her jaw. She’d do what she had to now.

  
…………

  
**Brenda**

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. And _pull._

  
Brenda tossed the blade aside and immediately pressed all the available gauze from the Berg’s medical kit onto the wound.  
“Please stop bleeding,” she murmured, as if a stabbing through the chest could listen to her. She looked incredulously over her shoulder at Gally, who still stood with two blue syringes in each hand, sniffling like a baby. “Gally! What are you waiting for?!”

  
He dropped to the her side at once, and started rolling up Newt’s tattered sleeve. He was getting nowhere with his shaking hands, so Minho shoved him out of the way, taking up the task much quicker. Brenda saw the expression on his face, as if someone was pressing a hot iron into his skin, and established then and there that there was no way she was going to let Newt die. Not only Minho and Thomas, but the entire team would fall apart without him. She wiped her eyes with her shoulder, settling into the determination.

  
Luckily, the gauze seemed to slow down the rushing of the blood, and Brenda replaced it in her hands with a surgical stapler. She took yet another deep breath through her nose and got to work, praying that her limited knowledge with medical tools was enough to keep the boy from bleeding out.

  
To her right, Minho swore loudly. Two syringes laid empty on the ground, and he was vigorously shaking Newt’s purple-streaked arm. Brenda respected the man, who despite tears streaking down his face, steadily kept a hand on his best friend’s pulse point. Thank god there _was_ a pulse.

  
“Guys!” Gally shouted, pointing to the sky. Brenda saw the Berg lower close to them, with Jorge and Vince in the cockpit. She looked down at Newt and his splotched face, which though was terrifyingly covered in Crank veins, wasn’t showing worse signs of infection. Minho made eye contact with her, both shockingly relieved that they did it, they kept him alive, at least for now.

  
But as the Berg doors opened and they lifted Newt’s deadweight body on board, the focus shifted to finding Thomas, who without a doubt was off getting himself killed.

  
They placed Newt carefully across an emergency cot, and Minho perched over him and fumbled with his mess of a shirt. Brenda wiped her blood covered hands on a spare rag and switched places with Vince in the copilot’s seat, exchanging a worried glance with Jorge.

  
She heard Gally ask, “How did the knife miss his heart?”, to which Minho replied, “The heart is on the left side, you shank.”


	3. say this without breaking

 

 

**Teresa**

The city was an ocean of fire. Teresa was an island, and Thomas, bleeding and barely conscious in her arms, was the stranded hero on the shore.

  
She looked frantically at the sky, not sure what she was looking for, whether it be a helicopter or for the clouds to part and lift her into heaven. No matter, there was no going the way they came; the staircase was consumed by fire. Thomas stumbled, and her knees gave out below them.

  
Hopeless was the only way to describe how she felt as she cradled his shoulders and brushed blood crusted hair from his forehead. Teresa reached into her jacket pocket and pressed the vial of serum into his hand, maybe to remind them both that they did succeed in the end, or maybe as a last promise that he was going to get out of this.

  
Looking down at him, there were so many things Teresa wanted to say. _I remember us. We were supposed to save the world. I never meant to hurt you. I loved you._

  
Instead, she choked out an, “I’m sorry,”

  
Thomas blinked up at her, shaking his head gently. “I know,”

  
“I tried, Tom, I did,” she said, more to convince herself than anything. One of her teardrops dripped from her chin and landed on his cheek, leaving a clean path in its wake. His eyes were closing, and in a rush of panic and need to keep him alive, she kissed him.

  
It didn’t feel right, not like the first time they kissed, long before Thomas was sent up in the Box. Nevertheless, they both leaned into it, and Teresa imagined that she was pushing some of her own life force into him. It worked, he did wake up, eyes wide in surprise and sad, so, so sad.

  
_I loved you.  
I still love you._

  
But loving him didn’t work the first time, nor will it now. Teresa pressed their foreheads together and waited for the flames to swallow them, when the chopping engine of a Berg emerged from behind them.

  
“Thomas! Look!” she shouted over the noise. He was already attempting to stand back up, and they stumbled across the roof. Teresa felt every tremor in the building, and could tell that it was set to collapse any time. There was still so much to say, so much to explain...

  
Gally and Minho were reaching towards them from the bay door, but Thomas’ weight was too much for her to drag on her own. She took hold of his armpits and heaved with all her might, muttering, “I won’t let you die, not when we’ve come this far,”. She didn’t know if he could even make out the sentence over the commotion, but she needed to allow herself to say it.  
The words were spilling out of her now, and it was a waste of energy but Thomas had to hear it.

  
“You remember Mary Cooper?” she panted. “She cured Brenda with the enzymes from your blood! Her supplies; I saw her hide them in the mountain base. Find it and we’ll have the cure! That’s all that we needed, it’s why I did what I did,”

  
They were so close to the Berg, but still just out of reach.

  
“Thomas,” she pleaded, and he nodded like he heard her. “Forgive me.”

  
And with that, Teresa pushed him into the reaching arms of her once-friends and stepped back. Thomas lifted himself onto an elbow, leaning nearly out of the Berg as if trying to reach her. Teresa grinned at him, reassuringly, peacefully. They’d made it. He would make it.

  
The last thing Teresa heard was the crash of the WCKD headquarters crumbling, and Thomas’ tortured wail following her as she fell.

 

…………

 

  
**Thomas**

She could have jumped. She didn’t, and she had smiled.

  
A numbness spread through Thomas, and as the Berg door shut, so did his eyes. Everything was foggy around the edges and slightly tinted in red, and the energy it took to keep his eyes open was too much. Dimly, he registered hands on his abdomen and someone whispering _oh, god_. Was he dying? A last.

  
He’d spent a lot of time imagining who’d be waiting for him when he passed from the world; his family that he has no memory of, Alby, Chuck, Winston, and with a pang in his heart, he added Teresa to that list, and Newt-

  
Thomas bolted up, reaching for the closest person to him, who so happened to be Minho. The other boy jumped at his sudden movement and attempted to settle Thomas back to the ground, where Brenda was dabbing at the wound in his stomach, barely stinging by now, but that was likely due to his senses slowly shutting down.

  
“Thomas, you need to-“

  
“No, listen-“

  
“-lay down before you lose any more blo-“

  
“ _Listen to me!_ ”

  
The Berg went quiet, and even Jorge whipped his head around at the sudden commotion. Thomas grasped Minho’s shoulder in urgency and waved his fist, holding the small beaker from Teresa, in his face.

  
“This,” he stumbled over his words, slipping in and out of full consciousness, “The Cure. It’s my blood and we can get more-“

  
“Why would we need more?”

  
Thomas ignored Brenda and kept rambling, unsure that he’d be able to continue if he stopped. “-from the old Right Arm base where Mary Cooper had her supplies. Please, we have to retrieve it, we can’t let more people die,”

  
Minho nodded with concentration in his eyes, and Thomas knew that he could trust him to get them there. Brenda looked at him, puzzled, but Minho shook his head and she said no more after that.

  
Thomas sighed and thumped back to the welcoming cool metal of the floor, pleased to have passed on the information if he did nothing else the rest of his life, which wasn’t looking to be a very long time at all.

Finally, the noises of the world were fading away, and he felt weightlessness overcome him. Right as the darkness folded into him, Thomas saw what must have been an angel in the form of fierce, warm eyes and the soft curl of lips that he knew well. He reached out, and his hand connected with Newt’s; he held on as tight as he could. If death was where they were headed, Thomas wasn’t going to lose hold of him for a second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the support I've received on this fic! It means so much to me and gives me motivation to finish this project. I have a lot in store for this story, so please stay tuned! Chapter 4 is coming sooooon


	4. put it down into words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I’m sorry for the long wait, but I really wanted to perfect where this fic was going to go before I published anymore.
> 
> Now, in light of recent news on James Dashner, I’d like to say that whatever actions he’s done and been accused of, none of that changes the amazing universe that he’s created. I’m not proud of his name nor his attachment to The Maze Runner, but I hope that I can separate him from the world in which I’m writing, because these characters have left such a mark on me that it would break my heart to let them go.
> 
> In short: I’m now adopting the entire Maze Runner series and James Dashner has hereby been disowned from the family. This series belongs to our lovely fandom now.

 

 

**Brenda**

_Ping._

  
Brenda sighed as she dropped the bloody bullet onto a tray. She figured that after today, if all else failed, she could go and become a surgeon. A surgeon for who, though, that was the question. For the second time that day, she grimaced at her hands, sticky with someone else’s blood. Minho noticed her discomfort and handed her a towel, before returning his attention to Thomas, who was muttering unconsciously.

  
“No! Absolutely not!”

  
A fuming Vince stormed out of the cockpit, Jorge’s irritated “ _Maldita sea!_ ” following him out. Gally and Minho both stood, looking as if they were bristling for a fight.

  
“What? What’s going on?” Brenda asked.

  
Vince shook his head and jabbed a finger towards where Thomas and Newt were passed out.

  
“You have no idea how much I risked for the Right Arm, how much time we lost, in coming here to retrieve you-” he huffed, “-and now we’re supposed to make another stop just because Thomas said so?”

  
Minho crossed his arms. “From what I remember, this was his mission and it’s your choice to be here. You may be the leader of your team, but not here.”

  
“Didn’t we come here to save you, kid?” Vince questioned incredulously.

  
“Not that Thomas and I are pals,” Gally spoke up. “but if he says we should find this Cooper lady... well, he’s never called a bad shot.”

  
Minho humphed, whether in surprise or agreement, Brenda wasn’t sure. Vince chewed this cheek furiously.

  
“Each of you are under the rules of my organization, and I won’t have some side quest jeopardize the lives of a hundred others.”

  
Brenda said, finally, “He’s right.”

  
“What?” Gally stared.

  
She continued, “We came here for Minho, and now that he’s here, we should head back to base and set sail as soon as we can. Who’s to say WICKED didn’t have survivors and are hunting us down right now?”

  
“Thomas said-“

  
“He’s delirious!”

  
“Maybe, but he’s not dumb.”

  
With an echo of boots on metal, Jorge stomped into the room.

  
Gally sputtered, “Who’s flying...”

  
“Autopilot.”

  
Everyone turned to him as he walked over to Brenda and plucked the blue vial from her hand, which she’d honestly forgotten she had. Jorge chuckled, and Brenda knew then that she was about to be proven wrong.

  
“Thomas was thinking one step ahead,” he said. “Which, I know, still catches me off guard considering how reckless that kid is. But, if he was right, and this vial right here is the cure to the damned Flare, then this is the very opportunity to raise the next generation completely immune to the disease.”

  
Brenda sucked in a breath as it dawned on her. “ _Oh my god_...”

  
“See? Thanks, man!” Minho clapped Vince on the back, who was gaping at Jorge as if he had just simultaneously insulted his mother and sang a holy opera while doing so. Gally just nodded, eyebrows raised almost to his hairline.

  
Vince finally sighed. “Fine. But you’d better fly us there and back to base in 24 hours, or I’m officially leaving all of you on the docks.”

  
They all laughed, and Minho flopped to the ground with an exhausted _phew_. Gally fiddled with an intercom until Fry’s (worried) voice came through and he explained the new plan, and told him to hang tight. Vince suggested for a message to be sent to Sonya for her to retrieve him and the children tomorrow morning, and Brenda could imagine how thrilled the action-craving girl would be.

  
The Berg eventually quieted, and as Brenda took a seat next to Minho for a much needed nap, he nudged her and pointed his chin across from them. There, somehow, Thomas had reached up from his makeshift bed of ragged blankets on the floor to the cot, and had his hand twined around Newt’s, a pendant on a chain dangling between their fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, sorry. The next chapter will make up for it though, I swear!


	5. know the secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who’s back from the dead? (aka on spring break)  
> enjoy!

 

**Newt**

He dreams.

  
Achingly, he sees fragments of his memory float into each other until one picture forms, just for a second, and dissipates again. He sees the tall grass of the Glade, the doom-ridden walls of the WCKD facility after the Maze, Minho reaching from the closing doors of a Berg; everything that he’s played in his head over and over again since he first awoke in the Box, screaming for his life. This wasn’t any different from his usual nightmares.

  
The landscape around Newt fades from sand dunes to crumbling pavements, and then to dry grass, and suddenly, a beach.

  
_“How would your life be, Tommy? In paradise?”_

_  
Thomas shrugged, tossed another pebble into the water at their feet._

_  
“I’d like to raise a small army of squirrels, I think.”_

_  
Newt laughed, but a small cough cut it short. Thomas’ hand was immediately on his back, soothing and gentle and_ infuriating _. Newt pushed him off and rolled onto his feet._

_  
“I wish you’d stop that,” he grumbled, wiping a hand under his nose._

_  
“Stop what?” Thomas, as always, looked like a confused, wounded puppy, and Newt had to melt._

_  
He sighed and tugged his sleeves further down around his fingers. Thomas reached up from the sand and hooked his pinky around Newt’s, a habit they’d picked up to ensure that the other was near._

_  
“Newt.”_

_  
“Thomas.”_

_  
“You’ll be-“_

_  
“Fine?” Newt finished for him. “I thought we agreed on no lies.”_

_  
“Then you know that I mean it. Anything I have to do, we'll get out of here together.” Thomas tugged Newt to sit back down, but his hand stayed in his._

_  
Newt shook his head, breathing deeply through his nose. How could he explain the death he felt running through his veins to those eyes? “I’m sorry, Tommy.”_

_  
Thomas rubbed circles on the back of his hand, looking into the horizon. “You don’t have to be.”_  

  
Newt’s conscience was ripped from the memory, and he was left feeling hollow and regretting the first week they’d spent at the new base. Several fleeting whispers floated in and out of his reach: Frypan’s first attempt at chicken stew, Alby trying his damn hardest to act like it was delicious, and Newt catching him spitting it into his napkin a second later; Winston hurling a spoonful of rice into Teresa’s hair and her expression of utmost betrayal, back when they’d first escaped the Maze Trials; Chuck laughing so hard at Thomas face-planting on his first day in the Glade that he was crying.

  
_“Oh, oh shuck, he really went down!” Chuck was wheezing, and Newt found that even funnier than the slightly clumsier-than-the-usual Greenie, who was now standing and turning circles around himself, looking absolutely terrified and confused._  
Alby clapped Newt on the shoulder. “What do you think about this guy, huh? Slopper? Builder?”  
“Nah, Gally couldn’t handle that increase stress on his blood pressure.”  
Frypan humphed as he walked past them, resuming his carrot peeling. “I keep telling you guys that I could use some help feeding these shanks...”  
“Not when you cook the best, Fry!” Alby called after him.  
“Ha!” the other boy scoffed, waving over his shoulder. 

  
His dream came to a halt, as if he’d ran face first into a wall. He was used to this, normally meant he’d ran out of things to dream up since his life started four years ago. But this time, the wall there became a door, and the door opened like a floodgate releasing the full force of the ocean. Newt couldn’t keep up with the broken bits of memories flying about, years and years worth.

  
And so he closed his eyes and let it wash over him.

  
_A boy with a wild mischief in his eyes was holding his hand out. He blinked._

  
_“You’re supposed to shake it, man,” the boy said without a hint of annoyance. “That’s what all the adults do.”_

  
_He did, and the boy nodded._

  
_“The name’s Minho. Been here two months.”_

  
_“I’m Isaac, and I’ve, uh, just arrived.”_

  
_Minho scrunched his nose up. “No, that won’t do.”_

  
_“I’m sorry?”_

  
_“What, you want the boys to laugh at you? Nah, that’s the most ordinary name I’ve ever heard.”_

  
_“There’s other boys?”_

  
_Minho nodded and gestured around the room they were in. They sat at a metal table and the walls and floor were made of cement, and Minho pointed to the large mirror on the wall._

  
_“There’s one girl too, and I bet my lunch she’s watching through that right now.” He waved._

  
_Minho turned back around and thumped his elbow on the table. “So, Isaac... Isaac... Newton! You’re named after that guy? That’s awesome! Dude, they named me after Dr Paige’s favorite musician.”_

  
_“I think it suits you. So you know more about why we’re h-“_

  
_“Okay!” Minho cut him off, raising his eyebrows as if sharing a secret inside joke. “We’ll call you Newt! You’ll get to meet the other guys in a bit.”_

  
_And so Newt followed Minho out the heavy steel door, where two adults in lab coats led them down a hall. Along the way, Minho listed off the names of the boys in their dorm, like Albert, “... you call him Albert and you’re dead. He’s Alby to us and the ringleader. Nice guy. Now Gally’s the one you gotta watch out for; emptied a whole tube of toothpaste in my pillowcase once ‘cause I beat him arm wrestling...”_

  
_Newt listened and nodded, deciding that it would be the best to find out all that he could so he could find Lizzy and make some sense of what they were doing here. He hoped his sister was being treated well, and that someone would’ve gone back for her stuffed bear. She didn’t sleep well without it._

  
_“... and Nick. Don’t get me started on that guy! Acts as if he’s the boss all the time... you know, if I were allowed, I’d give him a good knock on the head.”_

  
_Minho walked with energy behind every step, like a thoroughbred kept in the stall for too long. He kept getting ahead of the adults and turned around to wait for them._

  
_Newt cleared his throat. “I hope I figure out these halls soon; this place is huge!”_

  
_“Sure is! Say, Newt, you’ve got a funny accent. Where are you-“_

  
_“Subject,” one of the scientists cut him off sharply, and Minho shrunk his head down, muttering. Newt figured they shouldn’t say anything more._

  
Somewhere outside of his dream, he heard a voice say, “Is he really still alive at this point?”, and Newt didn’t have an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im making a playlist for this this fic! if you can think of any songs that fit please comment!
> 
> also i feel like for the number of chapters i have there’s not enough words... but quality over quantity right? oof is this even a quality fic mmmm


End file.
